


ephemeral

by hitoshi (dami_an)



Series: E for eappyness [1]
Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Drama & Romance, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dami_an/pseuds/hitoshi
Summary: What happens in the mansion stays here.The first warning Lee Seunghoon gets from the caretaker, Kim Jinwoo, on the first day he steps into this enormous mansion. There is a glint in the caretaker's dark eyes, brief and yet shelters a thousand meanings that Seunghoon can't decipher.
Relationships: Kang Seungyoon/Song Minho | Mino
Series: E for eappyness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581619
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	ephemeral

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: this fic centers around an abusive relationship. please read with caution and seek help if triggered.
> 
> footnote: unbeta'ed. this fic is the first part of the series, 'E for eappyness'

What happens in the mansion stays here.

The first warning Lee Seunghoon gets from the caretaker, Kim Jinwoo, on the first day he steps into this enormous mansion. There is a glint in the caretaker's dark eyes, brief and yet shelters a thousand meanings that Seunghoon can't decipher.

Doesn't matter. 

He's here for work. Just point him in the direction of the kitchen and pay his salary, and Seunghoon will be more than delighted to turn a blind eye. He needs the money for his sisters' studies, anyway.

The mansion is beautiful, Seunghoon notes as he walks through the gallery—something that he's only seen in television and books. Like one of those magnificent western mansions.

A two-storey mansion, connected with a spiral staircase in the middle, lit by a luxurious chandelier. A foyer, split into two galleries that lead to rooms on the east and west wings. On the first floor, built four bedrooms, each of them is so huge that it'd put Seunghoon's tiny apartment in the city to shame.

It's such a waste of space since only two permanent residents live in this mansion.

Song Minho, his employer, and Kang Seungyoon.

Truth to be told, Seunghoon rarely sees his employer. Only the echo of his voice. The moving shadow under the door. The lingering presence his employer leaves behind as he flees to another room.

Like a ghost.

Kang Seungyoon, however, is a constant presence in the mansion. Clad in a long-sleeve, light footsteps, and polite smiles. Like a good employee, Seunghoon always makes sure to greet him at every possible chance.

Though, never once Seunghoon hears a reply from Kang Seungyoon. Only smiles. Small but genuine. Hide warmth behind it.

After days of consideration, his curiosity tops his inferiority complex, so Seunghoon asks Kang Seungyoon himself, "I never hear you talk. Have I ever offended you that you won't talk to me?"

Kang Seungyoon widens his eyes, his Yakult drink midway to his mouth. He looks away, uncertainty swimming in his eyes as he lowers his drink back to the counter.

Guilt pricks in Seunghoon's chest. "You—you don't have to answer. I mean, that was so rude of me for asking that question. Just, uhm—just forget that I ever asked."

Kang Seungyoon, with a pinched look, lifts his hands, making some complicated gestures, then gives up. He bows deeply, much to Seunghoon's surprise, as if in apology before Kang Seungyoon leaves the kitchen.

Seunghoon blinks.

  
  


...

  
  


"Selective Mutism." Jinu breezes into the kitchen one night.

Seunghoon raises his eyes from the salad bowl; peach and blue cheese salad for supper. He wipes his hands on the apron tied around his middle. "What."

Jinu fetches Seunghoon's notebook from the counter. He leans his hip against the side of the kitchen island. "Seungyoon told me you wondered why he didn't talk to you."

"Oh." Red rushes to Seunghoon's face. "Wow, that. Uhm, I got curious, that's all. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings or anything, I swear—"

"He's suffering from Selective Mutism, that's why he doesn't talk to you. Well, it's not just you. He doesn't talk to me too." Jinu steals a salad leaf from the bowl. He sees the peaches on the counter. "Leave the peach out of this. Seungyoon is allergic to peaches."

Seunghoon pushes the peaches away. "Selective Mutism—what? I don't get it."

"An anxiety disorder; he can't speak or communicate effectively. In his case, it's quite severe that Seungyoon can't even produce a short sentence. Long story short, you may assume that he's mute."

"Whoa, I didn't know that—fuck, I really crossed the line, didn't I," Seunghoon gasps, regret settling in his chest, heavy and painful. "Shit, what should I do? I'm gonna lose this job—fuck, fuck—"

"Fried rice; he likes that." Jinu puts the notebook back to its place. He plops a cherry into his mouth; the one that's intended to replace the peaches.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Then Jinu points at the bowl. "Lacking punch."

"I haven't added my secret weapon." Seunghoon pulls out a bottle of olive oil from the drawer of the island. "Any tips so I can keep this position longer?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," Jinu jabs none too subtly. "Also, learn sign language. For Seungyoon."

Seunghoon blanches. The complicated gestures, the meaning behind them—too much for his puny brain. "Well, that—ehm."

Jinu laughs, a laugh that's light and airy. "Don't worry. Seungyoon always carries a small notepad around. He's considerate like that. So long as you don't make him write an essay, you'll be fine."

  
  


...

  
  


The next day, Seunghoon follows Jinu's advice; fried rice for lunch. He brings the tray to the study room, where Seungyoon does his work.

Behind the mahogany table sits Seungyoon, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he switches from one book to another. Seunghoon quietly approaches the table.

Seunghoon places the tray on the table. Seungyoon raises a brow. Seunghoon folds his arms behind him, his back as straight as a rod, eyes ahead not meeting Seungyoon. 

"A token of apology."

Realization settles in Seungyoon's eyes. He fumbles around the cluttered table for a minute before finding a sheet of paper under his laptop. He takes a pen and writes down, 'you did nothing wrong.'

"I assumed you didn't talk to me because you didn't like me," Seunghoon says after reading the note. "Jinu-hyung corrected my assumption. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

When Seungyoon makes a move to write again, Seunghoon stops him. He says, "Please. I insist."

Seungyoon stares at him. Then nods. He writes, 'forgiven.'

A smile breaks across Seunghoon's face. His chest feels lighter, free from guilt. With a gesture of his hand, Seunghoon tells him, "Please have a taste first. And give me feedback too if you'd please. You're my boss, after all."

Seungyoon trades the pen for the spoon. He takes in the meal first, his tongue peeking out a little in interest. Seunghoon waits, his heart thumping. Seungyoon takes a spoonful of rice, blows the steam away and shoves into his mouth. 

A few chews later, Seungyoon makes a surprised sound, with his left palm on his lips. His eyes are visibly lit up. Then he shows a thumbs-up around the spoon; a universal sign for good.

Seunghoon grins. Mission accomplished.

  
  


...

  
  


Seunghoon takes note of Seungyoon's allergies; peaches and apples. Then he adds fried rice under 'favourite' in his notebook.

  
  


...

  
  


Seungyoon is very easy to please, Seunghoon finds out after two weeks.

Often Seungyoon locks himself in the study room, working on English novel translations, so Seunghoon takes upon himself to bring the lunch and dinner to Seungyoon.

Although Seungyoon doesn't talk, he makes a lot of noise when he's amused. A simple snort. A huff of a sigh. A muffled laugh. Accompanied by a myriad of impressive expressions. And Seunghoon enjoys each of them a lot.

"—and then BAMMM!!! I caught a lobster this big," Seunghoon exclaims, spreading his arms wide. "Can you imagine? This big?! This big!"

Twinkles of wonder glitter in Seungyoon's eyes behind his glasses. He claps rapidly, with his mouth hanging open; a sign of amazement.

Seunghoon continues, with exaggerated gestures, hands flying around as if he tells an adventure tale. "Then we went back to the shore; not an easy journey, but we survived. We had a barbeque party after. Jongwon-sunbaenim cooked the lobster I caught. It was so insane!"

Seungyoon snatches a paper on the mahogany table and scribbles down, 'was it delicious?' His messy writing hints at Seungyoon's eagerness for the answer.

"I mean—yeah, Jongwon-sunbaenim is an awesome cook, but freshly caught from the sea?! That shit was insane! I still remember the taste—fresh, juicy, sweet, with a hint of fat—uhm, fuck, it was divine."

Seungyoon's throat visibly bobs. Seunghoon smirks.

"You wanna try it?"

Flustered, Seungyoon shakes his head rapidly. He quickly writes, 'it's fine.'

"Don't be ridiculous," Seunghoon snorts. "You're my boss. Your wish is my command."

'I don't want to bother you.'

"Are you kidding me—cooking is my job. I'm paid to cook for you." Then Seunghoon makes a mental note. "Never mind. I'll head out to the market tomorrow, see if I can get a good lobster for you."

'You don't have to,' Seungyoon writes.

Seunghoon, with an arched brow and hands on his hips, grins. "I want to."

  
  


...

  
  


The squeal escaping Seungyoon at the first taste of lobster is adorable.

Seunghoon pumps his hand in the air after he closed the door behind him, satisfied with himself. Jinu catches him. Seunghoon trots away, head ducking in embarrassment.

  
  


...

  
  


The sudden appearance of Song Minho in the kitchen one morning throws Seunghoon off.

Bleached hair, dark circles under his eyes, sharp jawline with distinct features, a piercing under his lip, outfit littered with dried colours, and a slight swag in his movements as he manoeuvres himself around the kitchen—his employer is sure a weird one.

Not that Seunghoon says these aloud. He's not stupid.

"Hey, sorry I raided the kitchen. Hungry." Song Minho bumps his hip on the door to close the fridge. He carries a carton of milk with his right hand and a plate of butter chicken wings with the other to the island. 

The carton drops onto the counter. The milk spills. It's as if Song Minho didn't bother to hold it tightly. Seunghoon comes to rescue, with a rag towel. He wipes the counter clean.

No speck of apology is shown on Song Minho's face. Seunghoon tries not to take it to heart.

"It's... your kitchen? So feel free to snoop around, I suppose?"

"Ah, right. My kitchen, I forgot," Song Minho agrees, sitting on a stool. He sniffs on his wrist. "I found these wings in the microwave. Think they haven't spoilt?"

Seunghoon vaguely remembers he made them two in the morning, for the sake of trying something new. "Yeah—yeah, they're good—wait, no. I should be preparing your breakfast. Those were experiments. You shouldn't eat those."

"Sick experiments. I approve." Song Minho grins around the wing. The sauce is smeared around his lips—a messy eater. "It was a wise decision to hire you. Good chef."

"But—"

"If you care so much, make Yoon pancakes. I ain't sharing these with him." Song Minho licks his thumb clean before digging in for another wing. "Uh oh, speaking of the devil."

Jinu is the first one to enter the kitchen, followed closely by Seungyoon. Jinu frowns. "I didn't know the exhibition has ended. When did you arrive?"

"It hasn't ended yet—I bailed out. It was boring as fuck anyway." Song Minho pulls the wing apart. "Yoon, come here."

Seunghoon watches in silence as Seungyoon nears the island. Song Minho stretches out his dirty left hand to him. Seungyoon doesn't take it, but he doesn't protest either when Song Minho loops it around Seungyoon's waist. 

His fingers leave yellow stains on Seungyoon's small back, a stark contrast to Seungyoon's white shirt.

"I've missed you," Song Minho breathes, barely audible, and pulls Seungyoon down for a kiss.

Long and lingering.

Seungyoon smiles against Song Minho's greasy lips. Seunghoon looks down at his feet.

  
  


...

  
  


"You don't have to prepare dinner tonight. Mino and Seungyoon are eating out," Jinu tells him from the doorway.

"Okay." Seunghoon barely acknowledges the notice at the sink, too busy filleting a fish he bought from a kind aunt at the market. She offered him a discount for it, and really, who was he to say no to the offer.

Jinu joins him at the sink. "Is that for tonight's dinner?"

"Nope. Tomorrow's lunch." Seunghoon takes the fillet knife. With his left hand holding the fish to steady his movement, he runs it down the spine. "What do you want to have tonight?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"You don't have to cook for me, though. I'm just a caretaker."

"And I'm just a chef. It's my job to feed people." Seunghoon turns the fish over to repeat the cut for the other side. The fish is getting slicker after the first cut. Seunghoon wrinkles his nose, annoyed.

"If you insist," Jinu hums, contemplating, "Tteobokki?"

Seunghoon straightens his back, raising a brow at Jinu. "Just tteobokki?"

"Soju too."

"Ah. Of course."

"Can I have soju now?"

"Don't push your luck, mister." Seunghoon huffs a laugh, resuming his task. "Gimme 30 minutes, don't touch soju, and I'll make you the best tteobokki you ever taste."

Nonetheless, Jinu goes to the drawer where a stash of soju is stored—of fucking course he knows about that. "Too long. I'm filing a complaint about bad service. 3 out of 5, not recommended."

"No dinner for you."

"I feel threatened. 1 out of 5, the worst chef ever." Jinu places a small glass, filled with soju, next to him. He sits on the counter next to the sink, the bottle in his right hand, his legs kicking lightly in the air.

"I usually kick out a demanding customer like you," Seunghoon says, accepting the drink. He clinks it with Jinu's bottle, taking a small sip out of politeness despite his alcohol allergy.

His hand reeks of fish. Urgh.

A touch of sweetness on the tongue before alcohol burns down his throat. Seunghoon winces at the sensation. He pours the rest into the sink.

"So," Seunghoon says, sniffing. "Seungyoon and boss."

"Yeah."

Seunghoon turns the glass around in his hand. "How long?"

"Since forever." Jinu takes another swig.

A lump grows in his throat—Seunghoon doesn't know if it's his allergy reaction or just another mood swing episode. He forces it down. It feels painful.

"Hence, the 'what happens in the mansion stays here' policy?"

Jinu doesn't say anything. Okay. Well. Duly noted.

  
  


...

  
  


One afternoon, Seunghoon finally discovers the beauty of sign language.

He's headed out for the lawn to give the gardener his tea when Seunghoon stumbles across Seungyoon and Jinu conversing in the rec room. Seunghoon watches it through the door that's left ajar.

Seungyoon touches his right middle finger to his left palm then pivots his right hand, side to side a couple times.

"Meds? Mino?" Jinu asks, adjusting the laundry basket to his left hip. "Yeah, he took them."

Two taps of the fingertips of the dominant bent hand on the upturned wrist of the base hand.

"Not today. Friday. I've told Jihoon about it too." Then Jinu tilts his head to the side. "Unless you wanna go with him?"

Seungyoon shakes his head. The end of sign language.

So, Seunghoon thinks as he continues his journey to the front lawn, that was sign language. The language requires no word but enables people to convey stories nonetheless.

It's fascinating. Mesmerizing. Puts stars in Seunghoon's eyes.

It's like watching Seungyoon talk in his own frequency. And wouldn't it be great if he could match that frequency as well?

  
  


...

  
  


Learning sign language is no easy feat. 

Seunghoon is on greeting; two-thumbs-up pointing from the chest to outward, with the help of Youtube video when the oven dings. 

A smile lights up his face. Yay. Seunghoon pulls the tray out to cool down the muffins.

As though on cue, Mino waltzes in. The smell of turpentine and tobacco trails behind him when he rounds the island. He eyes the freshly baked muffins. "Looks good. Can I have one?"

"I haven't prepared the tea to go with it..." Seunghoon falters seeing Mino snatch a muffin away and stuff his face with it. He throws his hands in the air, resigned. "Well, or you can skip the tea because why not."

"Delicious," Mino smirks around a mouthful of muffin. There are dried colours around his fingers; pink, yellow and bright green. He catches the video playing on Seunghoon's phone on the counter. "Sign language?"

Seunghoon turns the screen over on instincts. He scratches the back of his head. "I just started learning. Oh, that reminds me. How long did you take to learn sign language?"

"I didn't."

"Pardon?"

"I never learned that shit. Should I?" Mino blinks owlishly. Then he points at the muffins, nodding in acknowledgement, "Awesome muffins. I approve," and walks out of the kitchen.

Seunghoon stares, bewildered. Then notices another vacant spot next to the muffin Mino has eaten.

Oh. Mino just stole another muffin.

  
  


...

  
  


Finally, Seunghoon knows the meaning behind Jinu's first warning.

—what happens in the mansion stays here—

It begins with a shout. So loud it startles Seunghoon awake. Moving on instincts, he gets out of the bed.

His room is on the ground floor, next to the kitchen for easy access. The shout echoes along the hallway, so it must be from the ground floor as well. Seunghoon breaks into a sprint, uncaring about his swollen face and bed hair.

Every room has its door closed. Except.

The painting room. On the other side of the wing.

The only room that has its door open, spilling squarish bright light onto the gallery. More screaming, followed by crashes of metals. Seunghoon's heart thumps louder.

"—give you so fucking much—"

More crashes.

"—why can't you fucking understand how much I—"

More.

"—say the fuck SOMETHING, dammit!!!"

Crashes. 

Seunghoon slides sideways and—

Red. So much red.

—No. Not blood, red paint. It's red paint. And on the puddle, tucked in the corner is Seungyoon, curling into himself as he protects himself from the buckets thrown by Mino.

"Why can't you see how much I've sacrificed myself?!" Mino screams, loaded with anger. "For YOU?!"

More colours splash onto Seungyoon.

"I—" Mino sweeps up another bucket. "—FUCKING LOVE YOU, CAN'T YOU SEE IT?!" and throws it just above Seungyoon's head. The bucket knocks on Seungyoon's hands over his head, and orange paint spills over him.

Seunghoon sees red. Baring his teeth, he swings a leg forward but is halted by two arms circling his chest from behind. Angered, he glances over his shoulder.

Jinu.

"The fu—" Seunghoon struggles in Jinu's arms.

"Stay out of this!" Jinu whispers furiously, almost inaudible in Mino's bloody screaming.

"Seungyoon—"

"He isn't hurting him. Mino won't do that to him!"

"He is fucking throwing—"

"You'll get FIRED!!!"

That stumps Seunghoon into silence. In Jinu's eyes swims desperation. A flash of his sisters' image flickers across Seunghoon's mind. Jinu's throat bobs and Seunghoon finds himself mirroring him. Jinu's arms tighten around him.

The line he shouldn't cross.

"You'll make things worse," Jinu says, close to begging, "They always—Mino, he only barks. He—he won't hurt Seungyoon—if you go inside, things will get worse and Seungyoon—this, please, for Seungyoon, don't."

This doesn't make sense. Not to Seunghoon. He should be stopping Mino. He should be rescuing Seungyoon—

The screaming stops. Seunghoon peers inside. Mino has retreated to the wall, curled into a ball with his hands clutching into his scalp. His bleached hair is littered with colours, smeared by his dirty fingers. He rocks himself back and forth on the ball of his feet.

And Seungyoon.

Seungyoon remains unmoving in his own corner, coated in colours of Mino's wrath.

Seunghoon becomes a blind man that night.

  
  


...

  
  


Mino disappears. Seungyoon doesn't come down for breakfast. 

Jinu cleans up the mess in the painting room. Seunghoon thinks he catches sniffles from the painting room. Faint and yet loud enough to be echoed in this cold mansion.

Seunghoon writes 'shitty boss' in his notebook.

  
  


...

  
  


Jinu comes back with untouched porridge on the tray. He thrusts it across the kitchen island, saying with an apologetic look, "I tried."

Seunghoon sighs. It's been three days since the incident in the painting room, and it's been three days since Seungyoon properly ate his meal. 

Seunghoon is aware of his position—a mere chef; an interloper in their life, so he doesn't dare to confront Seungyoon while the wound is still too fresh. He leaves that to Jinu instead.

Though, at this rate, he might just bulldoze through it, so Seungyoon actually finishes the meal he's prepared with so much consideration.

"You know what," Seunghoon decides, taking the tray. "I'll make sure he eats even if it means that I have to shove it down his throat."

"Desperate much?"

"Drastic times call for drastic measures." Seunghoon stomps away, determined.

Jinu calls out, "Good luck!"

It's easy to find the bedroom Seungyoon and Mino shares; the one with a large, nicely carved door and gets the most sunlight, hence the brightest light slipping under the door.

Seunghoon stands in front of the closed door. The shadow nests in the hallway. He swallows thickly. It feels like sharp claws hovering over his figure.

Waiting to devour him.

The first knock is slow. No response. Seunghoon tries louder. Still no response.

Done being considerate, Seunghoon bursts into the room. Then stops because—

Because, fuck, Seungyoon looks like shit. 

On the bed, sheltered under a blanket and white pillows, Seungyoon is asleep. His skin is white as snow. Fragile. Under his closed eyes are dark circles, emphasized by his pale skin. Only his heaving chest and flushed fingers are hints of him being alive.

Carefully, Seunghoon tiptoes to the bed. He quietly puts the tray on the bedside table.

Up close, Seunghoon can see strands of Seungyoon's black hair on the pillow. His lips are pale and dry, with a faint bite mark on the bottom. Seunghoon bites his inner cheek. Maybe he should leave Seungyoon alone—

Nope. Not gonna happen.

With a tentative hand on Seungyoon's shoulder, Seunghoon tries to shake him awake. "Hey, it's lunchtime. Seungyoon, wake up."

An eye cracks open. Dull but definitely alive. Seunghoon releases a relieved sigh. Then Seungyoon blinks at his surroundings, followed by a sniffle and a faint, "...Hm?"

That brings a smile to Seunghoon's face. "I bring you lunch."

Seungyoon peeks at the bedside table for a good five seconds, just enough to register the presence of the porridge before he turns around under the blanket.

Uh.

"Hey!" Seunghoon exclaims, "Don't go back to sleep! You need to eat first!!!"

"Uhm." Seungyoon staunchly stays under the blanket.

"HEY!!!"

Even after a good five minutes of wrestling, Seungyoon remains in the fluffy cocoon. Seunghoon sighs, hands on his hips, frustrated by his employer's behaviour.

The clock ticks loudly in the silence. The porridge is getting colder on the bedside table.

"Look," Seunghoon tries, "I get that you're feeling down, but can you at least eat? I put so much effort into my cooking so you can eat well. If you can't do it for yourself, can you do it for me, please? It breaks my heart when I see my cooking gone to waste."

Silence. Then a slight movement and Seungyoon pokes his head out of the blanket. Guilt is apparent on his face. He peers at the bowl.

"Yes, just porridge," Seunghoon assures him. "Not heavy for your stomach."

Seungyoon bites his lip, uncertain.

"We can share," Seunghoon offers without thinking. Without considering the consequences. Without considering their boss-worker relationship.

Seungyoon blinks. Once, twice, and thrice. 

Uhm. Yeah. A bad decision. Seunghoon wants to smack himself upside down.

And then—then a rapid nod.

This time, it's Seunghoon's turns to blink at Seungyoon's eager look. That's a surprise. But, uhm, well. Okay, so long as he's eating, Seunghoon won't mind sharing food.

"Do... you mind?" Seunghoon gestures at the bed.

Seungyoon sits up then makes space for Seunghoon, patting on the provided spot. Hesitantly, Seunghoon accepts the invitation and retrieves the porridge from the bedside table. He hands the bowl over to Seungyoon.

At first, Seungyoon simply stares at the bowl. He sneaks an unsure glance at Seunghoon, so Seunghoon pulls an encouraging smile. With a sigh, Seungyoon scoops up a spoonful of porridge and—

Slurps it up.

Ah, Seunghoon thinks, relief is too bland for words, as he watches Seungyoon swallows the porridge down. Such a trivial thing, and yet sends butterflies in his chest. A smile blossoms unbidden on his face.

Seungyoon returns the bowl to him, with a hopeful look. Seunghoon understands that just fine. He happily shoves a spoonful of porridge in his mouth.

They eat like that after that; taking turns to finish the porridge. Seungyoon makes him finish the last two scoops, but it doesn't matter anymore.

Seungyoon ate; that's all that matters to Seunghoon that afternoon.

  
  


...

  
  


It becomes a routine for them since then; sharing food. Seunghoon would plate the meal in a single portion to share it with Seungyoon. Gradually, he would increase the portion size, not too obvious to draw Seungyoon's attention but enough to cater for two adults.

More light snacks between the meals. More conversation during the meal so Seungyoon wouldn't pay heed to his increasing meal portion. Seunghoon would even go as far as asking Jinu's presence during dinner just to make Seungyoon happier.

And happier Seungyoon is.

He laughs more. He smiles more, so broad that even his smiling eyes disappear in the presence of a broad grin. Seunghoon burns that smile into his memory, entertaining Seungyoon on every whim.

He would make a meal rich with a sweet flavour to lure Seungyoon's appetite back. Would pretend not to see Seungyoon when he sneaks in the kitchen to steal some snacks. Would act angry while Seungyoon giggles behind the kitchen island after the successful stealing attempt.

For weeks the mansion only echoes the sounds of happiness. For weeks Seunghoon feels like he's reverted back to his teen years, laughing and playing with Seungyoon like he has no care for the world.

Then Mino comes back.

It's one evening where Seunghoon is making his way to the sunflower garden, with a tray of fruit tarts and Earl Grey tea when Mino shows up in the garden. Seunghoon stops dead in his tracks, wide-eyed.

Under the gazebo is Seungyoon dumbfounded by Mino's sudden appearance. Mino has a bouquet of red roses in his left hand, holding close to his chest.

Then Mino kneels down on one knee. Seunghoon's heart thunders louder in his chest.

Mino is saying something—his mouth is moving, but since they're away from his hearing range, Seunghoon can't hear shit. So he hazards a guess.

'I love you. I'm sorry for hurting you. Please take me back. I promise I won't hurt you again. Please, take me back.'

He knows that wasn't probably true, but still urgh, the urge to bash the tray at Mino's throat is there. Temptation, temptation. He observes while Mino reaches out for Seungyoon's hand, anger simmering just below his skin.

And then.

And then Seungyoon takes Mino's hand into his own, pulling up to the feet into his arms. Into a tight embrace. As if he has forgiven Mino. As if he's been missing Mino. 

As if their happy days had never happened at all—

Oh. Seunghoon looks away. So that's how it feels like having the whole world crashing down on him.

  
  


...

  
  


Morning finds Seunghoon staring at the marks around Mino's throat. Mino notices the stare and says, "Hey, morning," with a friendly smile. Gullible. Unsuspecting.

"Uhm, hey." Seunghoon doesn't know where to look. He knows that look, those marks. So he settles on the English Muffin he's preparing instead.

"Breakfast?" Mino asks, bounding over to the kitchen island. "Looks delicious."

"Yea. Is Seungyoon coming down or should I send it to—"

"Nah," Mino cuts him off. He picks up an apple from the fruit basket, sniffs it once then puts it back. "Just put them on the tray. I'll send them up myself."

"Okay," because what else he can say at the moment. 

Mino and Seungyoon are dating. Whatever they do behind closed doors is their own business. Seunghoon has no right to intrude.

No right to get mad over it because he's just a chef in this mansion.

Fuck, Seunghoon bangs his fist on the countertop, exasperated when Mino strutted away with the tray. His fist hurts colliding with the counter, but the truth is more painful.

  
  


...

  
  


Now that Mino is back, that cheerful side of Seungyoon is tucked back into faux tranquillity.

  
  


...

  
  


Half a year in, Seunghoon realizes it's a pattern. The demons in this mansion.

It always begins with Mino coming home from events or galleries then Seungyoon welcoming him with open arms and warm smiles. Days would sail smoothly, then, filled with quiet laughs while Seunghoon stayed in the kitchen trying a new recipe.

Before long, there would be another conflict. Another screaming match. Another sinking episode where Seungyoon locked himself in his own shell. Another tiring attempt to pull Seungyoon back to his feet, one step at a time. One brick at a time. 

Another happy memory of Seungyoon's smile. Of Seungyoon's happy noises. These moments Seunghoon cherishes the most; carefree, jolly. Moments where he gets to hear Seungyoon's quiet laugh. Gets to see the corner of Seungyoon's eyes crinkles in happiness.

Then.

Another broken piece of his heart when he had to watch Seungyoon accept Mino's pathetic apology—

It's an exhausting pattern. Painful pattern.

Painful because watching Seungyoon smile at Mino after all those struggles, after all those—it's unfair. So, so unfair. It feels like someone snatches something belonged to him. 

Something so precious—

Through the high window of the kitchen, Seunghoon can see Seungyoon and Mino sitting under a gazebo in the garden, kissing—

He averts his gaze away. His vision of the dough is watery.

  
  


...

  
  


His sour mood must have been apparent on his face because Jinu invites him out for drinks while Seungyoon and Mino aren't at home. The mansion feels suffocated, littered with Seungyoon and Mino's happiness, so Seunghoon agrees despite his alcohol allergy.

Jinu, with alcohol in his system, is bolder. Blunt. He speaks his mind even though his speech is slurred.

"—They both are idiots," Jinu spits around the cigarette, thumping his glass on the table. His cheeks are red from alcohol. "They're hurting each other. They're destroying each other. You get me—destroying—"

Seunghoon pats Jinu's back. He sneakily pushes Jinu's glass away, but Jinu retrieves it back. Seunghoon huffs. "Yes, yes, I can see that."

"Then why are they holding on—why—"

"I don't know, hyung. I don't know. I haven't been around long enough to know."

"Yea, right. You don't know shit about them, don't you," Jinu slurs, glazing eyes on him.

Ouch, that hurts. Seunghoon suddenly finds the tteobokki interesting.

Jinu drapes himself over Seunghoon's side. The reek of alcohol and cigarette slaps Seunghoon in the face as Jinu half whispers into his ear. "Don't worry, don't worry. I will tell you. Hyung will tell you."

"I appreciate it, hyung." Seunghoon nudges Jinu back to his seat.

"You see, Yoon is never happy. Never truly happy."

Seunghoon perks up at that. "Really?"

"Yeah—uh, wait, I think it was before he met Mino—or was it not," Jinu frowns. "Whatever. Bad childhood, bad family—shit like that. Then he met Mino and uh, happily ever after, I think?"

A snort almost escapes Seunghoon. Happily ever after—he has to mend Seungyoon back every time Mino breaks him, how is that happily ever after.

"What changed, then?" Seunghoon asks.

"Shit happened."

"Pardon?"

"Accident happened. Ruined Mino's right hand, so he can't draw well anymore. Mino sunk into depression ever since, and Yoon—" Jinu plucks the cigarette from his lips.

Trembling. Shaking. Jinu downs another glass of soju then winces. Seunghoon doesn't pressure him. Instead, he lets Jinu take his time.

"Seungyoon—he, uh," Jinu sniffles, teary eyes on the glass. He licks his bottom lip. "He goes wherever Mino goes. Even the depth of hell itself."

"To that extent?"

Jinu's face breaks into a smile. Brittle around the edges. Hides pain. The one that Seunghoon has no ways to measure nor know.

"Just like how they always hurt each other, they can only seek comfort from each other."

  
  


...

  
  


Bullshit.

  
  


...

  
  


Then it escalates to worse. 

A sudden scream breaks the calm afternoon, and Seunghoon snaps his head up from the paper bags he's carrying, stopping dead in his track to the kitchen.

Oh, another horrible night. Seunghoon tries to play it cool.

More screaming. Seunghoon grimaces. He attempts to tune that out, with a soft hum of his own. The louder the screaming grows, the louder he hums despite the turmoil inside him.

It doesn't work. So Seunghoon busies himself with the groceries he bought from the mart; kimchi, meat, shiitake mushroom, scallop, kimchi, kimchi, kimchi—he just repeated kimchi.

A loud crash. A glass. Or a mirror. Or worse, a vase. Dread runs through Seunghoon at the thought. Like fear has gripped his heart. Tight.

Moving purely on instincts, Seunghoon breaks into a run. Another piercing scream. It sounds very much like 'YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND SHIT!' and fuck, that spells 'danger' in Seunghoon's brain.

His heart is pounding in his chest.

The fight seems to have stopped. Silence reigns the mansion, apart from his pounding footfalls. Nonetheless, Seunghoon doesn't slow down, heading for the study room.

And.

At the study room, there's nothing to see except the aftermath of the fight. Scattered books on the floor, half-torn curtains, broken pens. Even the expensive laptop. No sign of Mino anywhere. He probably has left. In the middle of the chaos, sits Seungyoon, head lowered as he picks up pieces of a broken vase from the floor.

Seunghoon's chest clenches.

Cautiously, Seunghoon makes his way to him, one step at a time as not to startle Seungyoon. He holds his breath, hand reaching slowly, then gives a light tap on Seungyoon's shoulder.

Startled, Seungyoon snaps his head up and accidentally closes his fist around the sharp pieces. Uh oh, Seunghoon widens his eyes. A wince escapes Seungyoon while he drops them on the floor, palm bleeding.

"Oh, shit—" Seunghoon checks the bleeding palm. There are little cuts around the lean fingers and an open wound on the palm. He winces. "Come on. Up. We've gotta wash your hand."

Seungyoon looks hesitated, teary gaze on the broken vase.

"Leave it. I'll clean it later," Seunghoon says, brooking no argument.

In spite of the doubtful expression, Seungyoon concurs. He follows Seunghoon out of the study room into the bathroom in the master bedroom with no protest. 

A whimper sneaks past Seungyoon's lips, face twisting into pain when Seunghoon runs water on it. That tugs on Seunghoon's heartstring. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, watching the blood swirling into the drain.

Seungyoon shakes his head.

The first-aid kit is in the drawer. Seunghoon puts his hand on the handle, pauses to ask, "Hospital?" then glances over his shoulder to see Seungyoon sitting on the toilet lid.

Seungyoon is staring at his bleeding palm on his lap. Lost in his own world.

"Seungyoon?"

A rapid blink from Seungyoon. Bewilderment is shown on his pale face. The question flew over his head. Seunghoon heaves a sigh.

"Do you want to go to the hospital? Get your hand checked?"

Seungyoon pulls his bleeding palm closer to his chest, eyes down; a sign of 'no.' Seunghoon can understand that. He brings the kit to Seungyoon.

A simple treatment, then.

Like he's treating someone very precious to him, Seunghoon takes extra care when he dabs the solution on the cuts. It is obvious Seungyoon tries to bite the pain back, so Seunghoon wastes no time in wrapping the gauze.

"Done," Seunghoon tells him. "Give it a day or two, okay? If it gets worse, I'll tell Jinu-hyung, and we're going to the hospital, whether you like it or not."

A frown on Seungyoon's face—disagreement, but no, Seunghoon isn't going to fall for it. He packs up the kit then stores it in the drawer.

"Do you need a painkiller?"

A shake of his head.

"Okay. Bed, then. You should sleep. It's already late," Seunghoon says. Truth be told, it's still early; the clock barely ticks past eight but after what Seungyoon had been through, best sleep the stress away.

Or that's what Seunghoon believes. He doesn't know if it's healthy or not. He's not a doctor, after all.

Seungyoon stares. Bites his bottom lip. Then nods.

The bed, as much as Seungyoon finds it irony since it's Mino and Seungyoon's love nest, is like a balm to him right now. A pleasant sight compared to the chaotic study room. 

Seunghoon opens his mouth to ask whether Seungyoon needs to change his clothes but stops himself because that feels too... intrusive? Shit, he wishes Jinu was here right now. Where is Jinu when he's needed the most?

"I, uh, should go now?" Seunghoon asks, unsure. It feels as though it's advisable not to leave Seungyoon alone in this state, and yet it feels inappropriate to stay.

Only a haunting silence he obtains from Seungyoon. An unreadable expression as Seungyoon nods numbly, eyes lowered to the floor, into space. 

Ah.

Seunghoon leaves, but not without a new resolution to help Seungyoon in the future.

  
  


...

  
  


One Friday morning, Mino comes home. The sun hasn't risen yet. As an early riser in the mansion, Seunghoon is the first one to find Mino.

In the kitchen. Raiding through the fridge like a thief. Seunghoon heaves a sigh. His employer is lucky he doesn't have knives in his hands.

"You hungry?" Seunghoon goes to the coffeemaker.

Mino turns around, with some rice cake dangling on his lips. He looks horrible. Dark circles, slightly sunken cheeks, messy hair. Seunghoon can see black roots growing out if he looks at them closely. Like Mino hasn't been taking care of himself.

Seunghoon winces. "You okay?"

"Hungry."

Regardless of his thoughts on Mino, he has to feed him. He's paid to work for Mino, after all. He gestures at the stool. "Please sit down. I'll fix you something. Omelette good?"

"Toast too, please. And coffee." Mino sits down, his body slightly hunched.

"Have you slept well?" Seunghoon takes some slices of bread. He slots them into the toaster, then goes to the fridge for some eggs.

"I slept okay."

In a small voice. The opposite, then. Seunghoon decides, "No coffee for you. I don't want to be responsible for the extensive damage to your brain."

"But—"

"I'll make your coffee after you have a good sleep. Not before." Seunghoon doesn't give a fuck about their positions, not when they're in his kitchen, his domain, not when health is concerned.

Mino deflates but relents. He traces the marble pattern on the island, with his finger. Like a dejected kid. No, Seunghoon won't fall for that.

After puttering about the kitchen, Seunghoon thrusts a plate of American breakfast and orange juice across the island. No time wasted, Mino immediately stuffs his face, like a hamster. Happiness bubbles up in Seunghoon's chest to see Mino eating so well.

Then Jinu waltzes in. A frown takes over his expression upon seeing Mino at the kitchen island. "You're back."

Mino hums around a mouthful of the omelette.

"Where have you been? You just stormed away. Never called." Jinu shoots questions rapidly. Annoyance is apparent in his tone. "Do you know how worried I was? How devastated Seungyoon was—"

And stops himself when Jinu realizes his slip-up.

"Yoon." Mino snaps his head up, eyes sharp. "Where?"

"No, he's fine. You take care of yourself first," Jinu says.

Mino springs to his feet, gulping down the juice in a few swallows. Couldn't care less about the dripping juice down his chin. "Is he in his room?"

"Best not see him now." Jinu gets in Mino's way.

"Move—"

This time, Seunghoon springs into action, his glare sharp and challenging. It works. Stops Mino from taking a further step. It earns him a glare from Mino instead.

But Mino's glare—it isn't intimidating. It's hollow. Seunghoon can see that in the redness of those eyes. In that tired gaze. As if it's just a pretence. A fragile mask on the verge of breaking.

"You aren't on the right mind at the moment. If you see Seungyoon in this state, you might hurt him more," Seunghoon says tentatively instead of screaming because he knows Mino doesn't need more noise. His head is probably as loud as it is.

"I won't hurt Yoon—"

"You will."

"I won't do that—"

"Yes, Mino-sshi, you will end up hurting him. Again." 

The frown on Mino's face becomes twisted, to the point it as though Seunghoon is hurting him. He might be hurting Mino, but Seunghoon isn't deterred. He can't let Mino see Seungyoon in his vulnerable state. It's going to harm Seungyoon more.

Jinu tries to appease the situation. He takes Mino's hand in his, placing a careful palm on Mino's back. "Look, Mino. It's still early. How about you get some sleep first? I'll take you to the music room. I can put on a soothing song for you while you sleep."

"Yoon—"

"You can see him when you feel better." Jinu comforts him.

The last bits of Mino's will vanishes, together with the glimmer in his eyes. Seunghoon finds himself looking at the leftover on the island as Jinu helps Mino out of the kitchen.

Mino's tired footsteps echo longer in his ears. Haunting. Depressing. Seunghoon tries to mute them with a chant of breakfast recipe under his breath.

The conflict puts a damper on Seunghoon's mood. He goes through the recipe plan for the day; kaktugi and rice with red and black beans for breakfast, kimchichigae for lunch, mandu for tea time, mandu, mandu... 

Crap, he keeps repeating mandu over and over again.

The morning market is busy as usual, thronged with housewives. The smell of fresh ingredients wafts under his nose. Seunghoon is delighted at the display of fresh ingredients. 

A sight to behold for a chef like him. He finds the kind lady who gave him the discount for salmon. Buys tofu from her. Gets more than he pays for—on her insistence.

He skips all his way to the mansion, happy. Walking through the hallway, he can hear soothing music from the music room. A piece of classical music. Seunghoon stares down the hallway.

Quiet. Apprehensive. Seunghoon doesn't like this atmosphere. He rushes back to the kitchen.

It's almost eight. Seungyoon should wake up soon. No time to waste, then. Seunghoon speeds up fixing breakfast for the residents in the mansion. Once done, he separates Seungyoon's portion from the rest to deliver it to the room.

The master bedroom still has its door closed. Seunghoon heaves a sigh. He knocks on the door twice to announce his presence then ducks inside, with the breakfast tray.

In the sunlit bedroom, sits a cocoon of the blanket on the bed. Seunghoon places the tray on the bedside table, a hand on a swell of the cocoon.

"Seungyoon, it's already morning. I've made breakfast for you. Come, wake up."

No response. 

"Kaktugi for breakfast."

Finally, a stir. Seungyoon peeks out of his hiding, squinting at him. Relief washes over Seunghoon's chest.

"Hey, breakfast. Come, sit up."

Drowsily, Seungyoon sits up. His bed hair is amusing. Gives a childish aura about him. A smile blooms on Seunghoon's lips unbidden.

"Small portion today. Think you can finish them all alone?"

Seungyoon makes a noise mixed between disagreement and drowsiness. Adorable, really.

"Just try, okay? Try. That's all I ask."

Reluctance sweeps across Seungyoon's face. He looks at the tray and Seunghoon back and forth, with a flicker of hope in his eyes. Then acquiesces when Seunghoon makes no response to change his mind.

Seungyoon takes his time to eat. Seunghoon stays at the bedside, observing Seungyoon's bandaged hand. The grip on the spoon seems loose, so it's probably still hurting him.

"How's your hand? Painful?"

A shake of his head. Seunghoon understands that. But.

"I'll ask Jinu-hyung to check on your hand later, okay?"

A pause. Then Seungyoon puts down the spoon to gesture a grabbing motion near the chin before he balls it into a fist.

Which translates into 'precious,' from what Seunghoon learned from the internet. And his heart clenches.

Clenches because he knows who it was referring to in Seungyoon's personal sign language.

Precious. Mino.

"Mino isn't—" 

Seunghoon stops himself, biting his lip. Sure he wants to keep Seungyoon unaware of Mino's presence in the mansion. But he can't bring himself to lie.

Not when he's faced with those eyes.

"He's resting," he says at last, with a little hint of defeat in his voice. "He'll have breakfast later."

'He is here?'

"Yes. He's sleeping in the music room."

'I want to see him.'

The crack in Seunghoon's heart spreads. Like a broken mirror. One crack at a time. But for Seungyoon—

For the sake of Seungyoon, he pulls a soft smile. "I'll tell him when he wakes up, okay?"

The little happiness glittering in Seungyoon's eyes is like a knife in his chest. Embedded deep that the pain lingers after he left the room.

  
  


...

  
  


In the end, their paths never cross that day. Jinu does a great job at distracting Seungyoon. He asks help from Pyo Jihoon, Mino's best friend, to make sure Mino has no chance of meeting Seungyoon.

Seems cruel but it has to be done to keep sanity intact. To keep the damage minimum—damage control as they say. 

Seunghoon thinks they did the right thing to keep those two separated after a glance at Seungyoon's weary expression while delivering his dinner.

Bone-tired. Almost hollow. His complexion was pale, so pale that he could see the blue and green veins under the pale skin. Seungyoon didn't even register the knock on the door, eyes away at the window. Barely acknowledged him when Seunghoon sent in the meal. Lost in his own world.

Yeah. Best keep them apart, Seunghoon agreed.

Still, they can only do so much. For someone who often hurts Seungyoon, Mino certainly bottles up apparent guilt. Seunghoon finds him pacing in front of the master bedroom door, unsure of his doing. Shoulders slumped and fingers fiddling with his robe, Mino has a frown etched into his sunken face.

"Hey," he calls, startling Mino.

Mino seems like a deer caught in the headlights. Seunghoon lowers his tone for the sake of Mino's troubled mind.

"You wanna see Seungyoon?"

A reluctant nod from Mino.

"It's already late. Seungyoon probably asleep."

Mino stares at his feet. "I just, uhm, wanna talk with him. Uh, want to apologize to him. I, uh, hurt him a lot."

Yes, you did, but Seunghoon doesn't say that aloud. Mino doesn't need his validation. He knows he's done wrong. 

Still.

"Best not meet him now. You hurt him badly last time."

"That's why I want to—"

"Mino-sshi." Seunghoon cuts him off, eyes firm on his employer. He can't get distracted by Mino's guilt. He has goals to achieve. Important goals involving a person he loves dearly.

"Yes?"

"I've been here for almost a year. My contract with you as the chef in this mansion is ending next week. It's stated in the contract," he says.

Mino blinks. Then, "Ah, I see. Time sure flies fast. Are you gonna continue your service—I mean, Jinu-hyung, uhm, I can ask Jinu-hyung to renew your contract—"

"I would like to terminate our contract."

A beat of silence. Long one. As if Mino has turned into a statue. "Oh. Why? Is it because we don't pay you enough?"

"No." Seunghoon shakes his head.

"Or because of other staff?"

"No."

"Or did we mistreat you somehow? Hurt your feelings? Or did we demand too much from you?"

More like you mistreat Seungyoon, but again, Seunghoon doesn't voice his thoughts out. He shakes his head. "No, nothing of the sort. You're a great employer. Even Jinu-hyung has been a great friend to me. I need to gain more experience, that's all."

Understanding flashes across Mino's face. He stops fiddling with the robe around the waist.

"I suppose I can't stop you know. Thank you for your great service." Mino bows, almost 90 degrees until Seunghoon can see the whorl of bleached hair, and really, that's Seunghoon's first time to see him so humble.

And Seunghoon doesn't like this. He doesn't like this attitude of Mino because it makes him have a second thought. 

Second thought of—

No. He won't be swayed. This must be done. For Seungyoon.

After a deep breath, Seunghoon says, "I would like to get Seungyoon out of here. Away from you. With or without your permission."

  
  


...

  
  


Weird. Too weird.

Mino, who is a narcissist and has a short temper, didn't put up a fight. Who always crawls back to Seungyoon begging for forgiveness every time he hurt him, simply said—

"Okay."

With a bitter smile. With a dull glint in his eyes. In his soul.

Like he'd been waiting for this. Waiting for someone to save Seungyoon from his sharp claws. To get Seungyoon out of his clutches.

To free Seungyoon from this miserable life.

  
  


...

  
  


A scream echoes across the mansion.

No. This one doesn't fill with wrath. Doesn't fill with frustration. But it alarms Seunghoon just the same.

Because this one comes from Seungyoon.

Seungyoon's agonized scream pierces through the cold air. And Seunghoon is thrown off. Not because it's his first time to hear such a clear voice from Seungyoon, no.

It's because Seungyoon looks so hurt. So betrayed. Even the chaos in the study room hints at his betrayed feelings; the cluttered table, the scattered books. Even the laptop is crushed—the screen is broken from the impact against the wall.

Betrayed by a crumpled note of 'this is goodbye' on the table, left by Mino. In a messy handwriting. Hints at Mino's shaky hand. Either it's the effect of the accident or his overwhelming emotions, Seunghoon doesn't know.

There are broken pieces of the vase on the floor. Jinu is quick to pull Seungyoon into his arms just in time before he steps on them.

"Seungyoon—wait, calm down!" Jinu tries.

Seungyoon's agonized 'Nooooooo' breaks Seunghoon's heart. He keeps struggling in Jinu's embrace. Keeps trying to claw his way out of Jinu's arms.

"Hey, hey—" Seunghoon catches Seungyoon's wrists as soon as Seungyoon slips away. He turns Seungyoon around, so he has Seungyoon plastered his back to his front, locking Seungyoon's hands.

It's difficult to juggle between restraining Seungyoon and being mindful of the broken pieces on the floor. Fortunately, Jinu is quick to spring into action, sweeping them away from their reach.

"Seungyoon—"

"Mi—no!"

That.

Oh, wow. This sinking feeling—wow, Seunghoon didn't expect to feel so much pain from that name. The first word, he heard Seungyoon say, and that first word was 'Mino'.

Not—

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That fucking hurts.

It has Seunghoon hunched his body over Seungyoon's, face buried between Seungyoon's shoulder blades, as he tries to keep everything together.

Seungyoon. And himself.

  
  


...

  
  


If Seunghoon thought he'd seen worse, he thought wrong. This—no, it shouldn't be like this. No. Mino's departure shouldn't be able to hurt Seungyoon this bad after what he's done to Seungyoon.

Almost lifeless. Hollow. Like a broken shell lays static in bed, dull eyes away at the bright window. Even the shadow cast by his body seems empty. Lonely.

As though Mino's departure has taken everything away with him; the screaming, the joy, even the light in Seungyoon's eyes.

Jinu tries to play it cool, going about his day as usual, but Seunghoon can see the way he carries himself—heavy. Exhausted. Slumped. Like there's an invisible burden on his shoulders.

But Seunghoon—no, he's not going to cave in the hollowness Mino left behind. Even if the entire mansion drowns in misery, he's going to stay afloat; the beacon of hope for Seungyoon.

With his heart set to get Seungyoon out of this miserable life, Seunghoon makes his way to the master bedroom.

The sight that greets him upon entering is heartbreaking. Seunghoon finds himself pausing in the doorway, chest clenching tight.

On the bed sits Seungyoon facing the bright window, wrapped in the blanket. His hair is messy from the lack of care. His shoulders are slumped, and when Seunghoon squints at them, he can see light outlining the skinny shoulders. The skin looks so pale as if it's never been touched by sunlight.

It's alright. He's expected this. He can do this. 

His legs stop. His heart drops. Seunghoon stares, dumbfounded seeing Seungyoon's face.

Sunken cheeks. Chapped lips. Stubbles littered on the jaw. Swollen eyes, puffy from endless crying. No healthy shade on his skin, not even the usual pinkish blush. 

Fuck, Seungyoon is the picture of despair. Seunghoon can hear another crack inside of him. Faint, but it's there.

Cautiously, Seunghoon crouches down by the bed to make his presence known. "Hey, Seungyoon."

It takes Seungyoon time to turn to him, movement slow like a controlled puppet. His eyes don't reflect light nor do they have shine in them. It's as though he's looking into a void.

"I see you haven't eaten your porridge." Seunghoon points at the bowl on the bedside table. With a smile even though it feels brittle. "How about we eat together? Like we used to do? One spoon for me, one spoon for you."

Those chapped lips move. Just a slight movement but more than enough for Seunghoon to capture it. For Seunghoon to feel a longer crack on his heart.

Mino.

"He—" Seunghoon pauses. Looks at his feet to collect himself. Then smiles at Seungyoon again. "He's not here. He's away—working, probably."

Seungyoon looks away. Honestly, Seunghoon doesn't think he can hold this anymore.

"Look." Seunghoon carefully takes Seungyoon's hand into his. Slots his fingers between Seungyoon's. "I'm going to be away soon. Real soon."

That gains Seungyoon's attention. And his frown. Huh. That's new.

"It's my contract. My contract ends soon, and I don't plan to renew it. I've got an offer, from my teacher. Remember Jongwon-sunbaenim? The lobster story? I'm gonna work with him."

Seungyoon opens his mouth but produces no sound. Only lines of frustration on his face as he clenches Seunghoon's hand, tugging at Seunghoon's shirt. Weak but desperate.

He gets the message just fine. "No?"

A shake of his head.

"Seungyoon, I need to leave this place."

Seungyoon's fingers claw at his front shirt, prompting Seunghoon to sit on the bed, and Seungyoon buries his face in Seunghoon's shoulder. He can feel Seungyoon's body trembling in his arms. The protective feeling envelops Seunghoon whole, and he places a hand over Seungyoon's nape.

Silence dawns upon them. No sounds except their breathing. The sound of billowing curtains. The feeling of Seungyoon's pulse on his thumb.

"Seungyoon."

A sniffle from Seungyoon. Seunghoon presses his cheek against the side of Seungyoon's head, eyes on the details of the wooden headboard. On the intricate swirling design.

"Let's leave this place together."

  
  


...

  
  


The sun is setting. The skies are painted cranberry red, with a hint of purple hues. Crows fly in the distance. Sunflowers lull into sleep in the evening breeze.

Seungyoon watches the sunset with a smile. With glittering eyes. With—

"Seungyoon, dinner."

A voice has him turning around. With a broader smile. With a lighter chest.

"Mi—"

~fin~


End file.
